Stripped Down
by absurdvampmuse
Summary: Jughead/Betty (Bughead). Set directly after Episode 9. /He needed her to smooth down his edges while she needed him to venture off the beaten path./ Mrs. Cooper invites Jughead to stay for dinner & Betty and him spend the night on the couch, watching TV.


**Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to the comic books or the TV show. I am merely borrowing the characters. All I own is my imagination and the laptop I wrote this on.**

 **A/N:** This is the longest obsession I have had in a while when it comes to a particular pairing. I would say this story is less plot-driven and based more on the feelings between the two characters. Still, I hope you'll enjoy it. :) *The amazing Icon I am using for this story is by gothicbarbie on Tumblr.

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 **Stripped Down**

 _When you know somebody and they know your body, it's so much better._

Betty categorized the gratitude in her mom's eyes as genuine and instant relief flooded into her body, taking away the tension that had kept it rigid and at the ready. Despite how her mother made her feel at times, she recognized the deeper layer to it of projection. Alice Cooper was this strong and relentless cataract of a woman, but losing her family was her undoing. Betty placed a comforting hand on her mother's shoulder, her mom reaching up to place her hand on top of her daughter's. "Thank you," she conveyed, eyes flicking over to Jughead. "To the both of you."

Jughead simply nodded at the words, not knowing what would spill out of his own mouth if he actually spoke. This was a reaction he hadn't counted on and was unprepared for, but he stood there stoically nonetheless.

Alice Cooper pressed her palms down flat on the table as she made to get up. "Well, enough of that. How about I cook us some dinner." She stood up, briefly exchanging a look with Betty before turning her gaze on Jughead once more. "Do you think it would be alright with Mr. Andrews if you stayed for dinner?"

Jughead shrugged. "It would be nice to have a meal that wasn't frozen beforehand." He attempted an appreciative smile.

Betty tried not to dwell on his words, although it was difficult not to now that she had a more complete picture of how he spent the last handful of years. It was a fate she wanted to yell at Jughead's father for. Yet she refrained from doing so because she knew that it wouldn't change as much as she would like it to. There were no magic words she could speak to anyone in order to rewind that time so Jughead was allowed to do it all over, right this time.

Her pace was slow as she followed her mom to the kitchen, tangled up in her thoughts despite her best effort not to. Still, she managed an encouraging smile as Jughead glanced back at her from over his shoulder. He paused momentarily so she could catch up with him.

"It's okay that I stay for dinner, isn't it?" Somehow, despite all of the masks she had learned to wear, he was still able to read her clearly.

Their upper arms brushed against one another as she stopped and met his investigative gaze. "I thought Mr. Andrews cooked, sometimes," Betty added.

"Cooking is a relative term. Heating up might be a more accurate one." He dropped his eyes to the floor, already feeling bad for his remark. He was immensely grateful for Mr. Andrew's benevolence. He wouldn't have any place to go if it weren't for Archie's dad. "At least he tries, which is more than my dad does. And that counts for a lot," he strove to redeem himself.

"In that case, my mom just might be a culinary artist." Betty grasped his upper arm between her hands for a few quick and fleeting seconds before tugging him through the kitchen doorway whilst enthusiastically proclaiming to her mother that the two of them would help. The emotion was mostly on his behalf, although Betty had to admit that part of it was also genuine glee. It had been a while since she had partaken in an act so banal as cooking, but she was glad of the temporary shift in focus.

Betty volunteered to watch over the cooking pasta and stir the sauce while Mrs. Cooper showed Jughead how to craft the perfect meatballs. It was an odd picture of domesticity, one that almost seemed foreign to the raven-haired boy as if he was looking at an image from a distance. They even ate at the dining table and made proper small-talk, the kind that spoke of silver linings and slightly idealized memories. But they all had their share of the heavy stuff for the day so it made for an atmosphere of wistfulness. All three of them were hesitant about leaving the table, not wanting to snap back into their reality, although it finally was Jughead who stood up first and offered to clear the dishes.

Betty watched him with stars in her eyes while keeping up her light back and forth with her mom. Jughead gave them the moment and did the dishes, coming to stand in the kitchen doorway somewhat awkwardly once he was done. He cleared his throat to announce his presence before speaking. "Mrs. Cooper, I wanted to thank you for making dinner. I did the dishes, but if there's anything else I can-"

Alice waved off the rest of his sentence. "Consider yourself welcome whenever you want, Jughead. From what I've heard," she paused to look down at Betty, "you've done a lot for Betty. I know I haven't been the most welcoming." A frown pulled at her forehead. "And you didn't have to do the dishes. We always leave them until the next morning anyway." She got up from the table. "I'm going upstairs to take a bath, cleanse myself." She flicked the tips of her fingers upwards in emphasis. She turned towards the stairs, although stopped when her foot was on the first step. "Jughead," Alice said his name, causing Betty and Jughead to exchange a slightly worried look. "It's late."

Betty rolled her eyes whilst Jughead opened his mouth to speak, but Mrs. Cooper ignored the both of them as she went on," You can stay the night if you want to. On the couch, of course."

"Naturally," Jughead replied instantly, his usual sarcasm tinting the edges of the word, even though he recovered quickly. "Thank you."

Both Betty and Jughead didn't move until Mrs. Cooper had disappeared up the stairs. "To the couch it is then," Betty declared.

Jughead signaled in the direction of the living room. "Lead the way."

He followed his girlfriend into the other room, watching as she grabbed the remote and sat down on the couch, seeming to take up as little space as she could as she crossed one leg over the other. Open amusement at her inherent prim manner splayed onto his features, the corner of his lip twitching.

Betty locked on to him. "Just for that, I'm not letting you control the remote."

She turned on the TV while he sat down next to her, pretending to be completely at ease even though really he didn't know what to do with his long limbs as they encroached on her personal space. "Why do I feel like I'm getting an eerie glimpse into our future." It was meant as a mere joke, in spite of what his words were actually implying: a long-term promise of togetherness. It soaked into their skin, causing it to almost tingle with restrained actions and suppressed words. They were hyper aware of one another while both kept up the appearance of aimlessly watching TV.

"You were right," Jughead was the one to finally break the silence. "Your mom is a culinary artist. Those meatballs were masterful."

"It was just spaghetti," Betty pointed out, eyes no longer on the screen in front of them as they settled into a comfortable conversation. "She put aside leftovers for you, you know."

"I saw." Jughead's smile was big and infectious as it took the weariness out of his countenance. "It was nice to see a different side to her. Less drill sergeant, helicopter mom and more human."

"Yeah," Betty agreed, resting her head on the hand of the arm she had propped up against the back of the couch. "I think this might be some kind of breakthrough. Polly choosing not to live with us. She's doing the best she can." Her eyes dropped down to her legs as she pulled them up onto the couch, her body now angled so she was facing Jughead.

"And that can be hard enough," Jughead mentioned, purposely keeping the conversation going so Betty would have something to keep track of besides her thoughts. "I witnessed my mom do the same until it wasn't enough one day. She took Jellybean because she was young enough to save," he finished with a scoff.

"Don't do that, Juggy," Betty reprimanded him gently, coaxing his eyes upwards with her own. "Your mom most likely knew that you were strong enough to deal with your father, would be able to see through his falsehoods and fabrications. And one day he will come to the startling realization that he has to change and man up. Because of you. You're his saving grace, Jughead," she stated while holding his gaze. "Just like you've been mine. Keeping me sane through the mess that is my life." She gestured at the space around her.

"Betts," he said her name almost chidingly. "Now you're the one who needs to stop."

"Well, it's true. The pills my mom has me take, my sister who feels like she's more at home with The Blossoms than with us, with me, this image I'm practically forced to keep up." Instead of counting the items off on her fingers, she curled them inwards, nails digging painfully into the palm of her hand. "But you're like this glimmer, a light in the darkness that manages to lead me out before it envelopes me completely."

Jughead wrapped his own hands around her fist, forcing her fingers to loosen and apart. "What you're describing, this supposed beacon of light," he quirked up a brow at the truism, "that is exactly what you are for a lot of people. Ever since you were little." He scooted closer to the blond, their knees now touching. "You've always had this somewhat ardent protective streak when it came to the people close to you." He lifted one hand so he could wrap a loose strand of her hair around his index finger. "To me."

His tone was calm, his breathing even and his gaze unguarded as he simply sat there taking her in and toying with her hair. Betty couldn't put her finger on the exact moment when it had become completely normal and comfortable for him to have his hands on her, nor could she remember when it had felt anything but like that. There was nothing in his touch but fondness and tenderness. Just a receptiveness to whatever she wanted to divulge. It was blissfully overwhelming. She wanted to stay like this, in this moment, even though she knew there would be many more in the future to anticipate.

Finally, she tugged her hair from his grip, placing a hand on his knee, bracing herself as she got up. "I'm going to get you a blanket, something to sleep in…" she trailed off as for a split second she pictured him getting ready for bed, bare-chested and provocative.

Betty gathered up a spare comforter, some pillows, a pair of her father's sweats, an old t-shirt and a new toothbrush. After handing it all off to Jughead, she went upstairs to give him the privacy to change while doing the same. Perhaps her feet were just a tad too quick as she darted up the stairs, needing to get away before she could give in to her urge to stay and see for herself what he would look like in various stages of undress.

Jughead changed hastily, his routine focused on being unseen and in-and-out swiftly so no one would notice, as if he had never been there at all. While hers took more time, taking off the layers she put on in order to cope with the world. The preppy sweater, the make-up. She stripped herself down, bare even. In a long t-shirt and with let-down hair.

When Betty came back down, he was sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees while waiting for her. She took his breath away while he left her just as breathless. They had never seen each other like this before, candid and unvarnished, even though they were always like this with one another. They had always been able to see past all the embellishments.

His signature crown beanie was clutched between his fingers as if he was considering whether he should have taken it off at all.

Betty walked over to him, pulling the beanie from his fingers with one hand while her other strayed to his midnight locks. She brazenly ran her fingers through as she stood before him, the beanie already forgotten on the coffee table.

She felt the weight of his hand on her hip as Jughead gingerly placed it there, all the while granting her free rein of his soft and dark strands. The fingers of his other hand started playing with the hem of her shirt, unable to hold back his restlessness.

"I haven't had this in a while," he voiced. "A home. Someone to cook dinner for me, look after me. See me as more than a nuisance." A sheen clouded his usually bright eyes and he looked away.

She was beside him without hesitance, sitting down so close they were thigh to thigh. The hand she still had in his hair slid down to cradle the back of his head while she grasped his shirt with her other hand. She pulled him into an embrace. Betty held on tight, letting him know what she was there and that this was real.

Jughead rested his chin on her shoulder as he breathed her in and out. "Maybe we can create a home together. One day." He spoke the words thoughtlessly and childishly, almost hopefully. The shame was immediate, but when he wanted to pull away Betty held on, fingers in his hair and pressing against his chest before following an impulsive trail down to his abdomen. He pressed his lips against the side of her neck.

The breathy moan got away from her and his skin vibrated in all the places it connected with hers. "Stay," was the whispered request that she felt not only on her skin but also deep within. He felt the shiver pass through her and he could practically feel the inner battle that was taking place. He knew that the next step in their physical relationship was inevitable but not urgent; they would get there. He let the prospect of more rage on for longer than he should have, amusement pulling at his lips and crinkling his eyes.

"Watch a movie with me?" he finished his earlier invitation, leaning back so he could meet her eyes.

Betty nodded, glad when Jughead kept one hand on her as he reached for the remote with the other. He handed it to her and as she began flicking through the channels, he pulled her legs into his lap like it was an innate part of them.

If this was an indicator of what the future held for them, then Jughead would gladly take it. It was a chance at an alternate universe, a do-over of sorts, vindication even for a life that left a lot to be desired.

A life that was worn at the edges.

But maybe Betty could smooth them out, strip him down to the bare bones so he could start anew and rebuild.

Just like he was leading her down an offbeat path, the one less chosen but one that would ultimately lead them home as well.

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 **Please Review?** I would be grateful if you left behind any thoughts you had on this story. Writing is a passion of mine and reviews are fuel. Also, if you know of any good Bughead stories I might have missed, pass those on as well. :)


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